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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698462">Lingua Franca</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove'>JoansGlove</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smoke Gets In Your Eyes [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Wentworth (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/F</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 06:48:15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,821</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28698462</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/JoansGlove/pseuds/JoansGlove</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Just because they're not together doesn't mean that they can't be together.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Joan Ferguson/Brenda Murphy</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Smoke Gets In Your Eyes [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1976404</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lingua Franca</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> With the chill fingers of fear gripping at her guts she responds to the message to call. “What’s up?” she demands worriedly.</p><p>“Ooh, not much, just that you’re talking to the new Top Dog,” drawls Joan. Tension whooshes out of her and Brenda shakes her head with a mixture of relief and admiration. With no prospect of imminent release, a woman like Joan wouldn’t settle for anything less than ownership of that prison.</p><p>“Oh yes? And what does Proctor have to say about that?”</p><p>“Oh, you know, she made the usual noises but what could she do in the face of such stellar opposition?” Brenda can just imagine the smirk that’s accompanying Joan's droll tone, and she laughs.</p><p>“What about Bennett?”</p><p>“Well, naturally she absolutely thrilled at the prospect!” Brenda can almost hear Joan's vicious grin.</p><p>“You had your victory party yet?” Joan lets out a wry ‘Ha!’ and Brenda chuckles throatily as they both appreciate the irony.</p><p>“Actually,” murmurs Joan, “I thought I might celebrate with you instead.” A current of arousal winds through her as she runs a hand through her hair, caressing the back of her neck then slowly sliding it down over her collarbone until her fingers idle in her cleavage. It had taken Brenda several weeks to get over what Vera had done to her and, even after she’d started messaging again, things had been what might – at best – be described as ‘delicate’.  She’d been forced to admit to herself that she had missed Brenda far more than she had budgeted for, but in the last week or so they seemed to have moved past the hump and Brenda’s affection has begun to make itself apparent once more. And she can’t think of anyone better to share her victory with.</p><p> </p><p>It’s the way Joan says <em>celebrate</em> that makes Brenda shiver in anticipation and, as the incoming video call request flashes up, she hurriedly unhooks her bra, pulling it from under her t-shirt as she thumbs <em>accept</em>. “Hey,” she purrs and slips the band from her ponytail, fluffing it out as she smiles at Joan and settles into the corner of the sofa. That first glimpse of Joan with her hair spilling over her shoulders almost takes her breath away she’s so fucking beautiful.</p><p>“Hey yourself.” She can’t keep the silly smile from her face and she doesn’t know what to drink in first – Brenda’s flashing eyes, her tempting mouth, that wild forest that haloes her heart-shaped face – it’s almost too much after so long without, and her throat tightens as emotion flares.</p><p>And because they haven’t physically seen each other since that night in the boiler room they just stare, the need for words totally redundant as they fall into each other’s gaze, chewing softly at their lips, pink tongues peeking out as they conjure the memory of distant kisses, eyelids flickering over dilated pupils as they recall the sensation of skin on skin, heat on heat, of comfort and of connection. </p><p> </p><p>Brenda breaks the silence. “I suppose you’ll have your pick of women now you’re top dog. They’ll be queuing ‘round the block…” she teases.</p><p>Joan's lips twitch and an eyebrow rises critically at the thought. “Well, they’ll be sadly disappointed won’t they? There’s only one woman for me and that’s you. Lying beneath me...” Flicking the earphone wire to the side, fingertips trace a figure eight on the sensitive skin between her breasts and she rolls her shoulders against the bunched up quilt behind her, offering a sultry look from beneath heavy lids. She tingles with a strange mixture of sensuous lethargy and urgent desire.</p><p>“Oh yes?” chuckles Brenda. “Flat on my back already am I? You’re too fast, Joan! A girl’s gotta be ready before you fling her onto the bed. I mean, don’t you want to warm me up a bit first?” She winks and Joan's smile widens, revealing her teeth as she holds the phone above her, and Brenda’s belly quivers as Joan eases her robe to one side and reveals a hard tipped breast.  </p><p>“Ohhh,” she sighs as Joan slowly teases the crinkled pink peak. “I wish I could touch you right now.” Heat floods Brenda’s cunt, making her thighs automatically slide together, her clit nudging at the tight seam of her jeans as her hips roll.</p><p>“If I were there with  you now, what would you do?”</p><p>“I’d kiss you, Joan. I’d kiss your mouth. I’d kiss your neck. I’d kiss you all the way down to that pretty nipple of yours…” Joan's low moan makes her shudder and reach for her own nipple. “And then I’d bite it and tug at it just the way you like.”</p><p>“And what would you do with this one? Whilst you’re sucKing and cheWing at the other?” Brenda’s eyes shine as she eases her robe over the swell of her other breast. The sensation of the soft fabric scraping across her skin is delightful and she indulges herself in a slow squirm of anticipation, mouth parted as she tries to convey the deep, gnawing pleasure that’s building in her core.</p><p>“I’d squeeze it,” says Brenda, thumbing her nipple through thin jersey.</p><p>“Like this?” Her fingers dent her skin as she massages slow and hard. “Would you give my stiff little nipple a good tweaking as well? Like this?” Joan's face disappears and Brenda’s treated to a full-screen of her delectable tits, and her clit pulses sharply against the thick seam as Joan's soft gasps fill her ears.</p><p>“Oh-ohh-ohhh,” she moans. “You know I would.”</p><p> </p><p>Joan raises the phone again to stare into Brenda’s eyes, knowing that she would happily die for the chance to drown in their mossy depths. “Do I get to touch you, or is this a one sided encounter?”</p><p>“Just how badly do you want to touch me?” She bites her lip, and flashes a teasing grin at the shuddering sigh this question produces.</p><p>“Badly.”</p><p>“Of course, but how much? Tell me.”</p><p>“I would give away everything I have, and I would walk over hot coals just to feel your skin against mine.” And she would. The look in Brenda’s eyes is driving her to distraction but she’ll suffer it willingly as the thread that runs between her nipples and her clit twists and contracts, and she plucks harder at her nipple seeing if she can’t get it to tighten even further. It does and she moans.</p><p>“So, I’m sucking on your tits but, because you can’t control yourself, you push me away and pull at my shirt.” Hooking a finger into the wide neck of her t-shirt she pulls it away from her body, raising the phone above her to expose her bra-less condition. She grins up at Joan, knowing that she won’t see it because her attention is understandably elsewhere.</p><p>“Mmm, very nice. And once I’ve had a glimpse, what then?”</p><p>“Well, duh – then you rip it off me, don’t you?”</p><p> </p><p>The screen blurs as Brenda pulls her top off and then Joan gets an aerial view of those soft, heavy breasts that she hungers for. Her hand arrows down between her legs and she cups her cunt, squeezing it shut around her hardening clit as Brenda lifts her left breast and raises the nipple to her mouth. And her Greek goddess stares hotly at her as her tongue flickers out, curling around the hard brown peak, leaving it wet and shining. Face on fire, Joan lets out a low growl and she begins to slowly move her hand back and forth, pushing and pulling at her tender meat as she almost disintegrates in the heat of Brenda’s sexy squint.</p><p>Brenda does it again, lowering the phone’s angle as she sucks at her own flesh, avidly watching Joan's expression flow from astonishment to lust and then into sheer, naked need. She loves getting Joan this het up, loves knowing that she wants it as much as she does.</p><p> </p><p>“What’re my hands doing?” asks Joan huskily. Brenda’s nipple slips from between those pouty lips of hers with a wet pop and Joan arches as her clit twinges with sudden force. It’s becoming increasingly hard not to touch herself properly but the anticipation is intoxicating and she wants to continue with this playful scene of theirs.</p><p>“Your hands,” say Brenda very deliberately, clocking Joan's response, “Are trying to get inside my jeans.”</p><p>“Do they manage it?”</p><p>“You bet they do!”</p><p>“And what do they find, mm? Are you gonna show me?”</p><p>“Show me yours first,” she taunts, loving the look of torment that flashes across Joan's face.</p><p> </p><p>It’s as if suddenly she’s sitting in a pool of hot oil as Joan pans the camera down her long torso, over the hollow of her navel, to the silky black vee of her mons, and Brenda’s jeans virtually undo themselves as she shoves her hand inside her knickers. “Are you wet?” she asks Joan, sliding two fingers between plump, slippery outer lips.</p><p>“You sit there, looking like that, and you ask me if I’m wet!”</p><p>“Let me see,” she demands. There’s blurred movement and then it’s as if she lying between Joan's thighs, and Joan opens herself up to her, revealing succulent pink inner lips draping from her large clit. Fuck how she wishes she could smell Joan's arousal! “Fuck yourself for me Joan. Show me what your hands are doing in my jeans right now.” She tilts the phone to her crotch and lets Joan glimpse the outline of her knuckles rippling beneath the denim. Joan hesitates even though right now it’s the one thing she wants to do more than anything else in the world – well, apart from transporting herself out of here and into Brenda’s bed that is… “I want to see…” she complains as Brenda’s face fills the screen.</p><p>“Fuck yourself and you will. You know I always make good on my promises.” It’s not what she wants but Joan’ll take it.</p><p> </p><p>Their eyes lock and Joan finally touches herself. She’s hot and slick, fingers smearing thick cream as they flicker sinfully from the aching well of her vagina to the apex of her split, her gasps mingle with Brenda’s strengthening moans in the silken bliss she’s creating for them both. When she manages to focus properly again Brenda’s background is changing and her image jiggles as she moves through her flat – she recognises the petrol blue of the hallway – and then they’re in a room she doesn’t know.</p><p>“Is this your bed?" she asks as Brenda takes a leaf out of her book and props the phone against something. She’s got a good view of a patchwork coverlet and pillows but no half-naked Brenda. She’s about to ask ‘Where are you?’ when a vibrator lands on the mattress, swiftly followed by the woman in question. Her jeans have disappeared but she’s continuing to torment her by keeping her knickers on, and Joan's fingers quicken once more as the vibe purrs into life in Brenda’s hands. </p><p> </p><p>Kneeling on the bed in her knickers, Brenda teases herself with a vibrator, setting it on low and sliding it over the silky material, twisting on a nipple as a breathless tremble washes through her. Her intention was to make Joan beg but her cunt has other ideas and she slides her underwear to one side, grazing her stripe of damp fur with the vibe before pressing it hard into her divide and curling around the heavy buzz travelling through her flesh and bone and into her brain. She barely registers that Joan's face is filling the screen again as she grabs at a breast and mauls it, the biting tension in her cunt is building to fever pitch and she slams the thick toy up inside her with a shattered <em>‘ffffffffuuu-uuu-uccck’</em>. And then she’s adrift, floating on a sea of sheer ecstasy. In her mind’s eye it’s not her hand controlling the vibrator but Joan's; it’s not her hand on her tits, but Joan's; it’s not her hand sliding down her rolling belly to her clit, but Joan's. Her knickers have disappeared and her knees slide wide apart, thighs burning as the base of the vibrator sinks into the mattress and fills her to the fullest extent. Fuck! The pressure is immense and she’s having trouble focusing. “Ohhhh, fuck, Joan!” she manages. Words are hard to find when you can hardly breathe, but the next four are important and she forces them out: “Show me your face.” She doesn’t need to see Joan's cunt, it’s etched into her memory, what she needs to see is Joan's expression as she comes – as they both come.  </p><p> </p><p>And that’s really not going to take long considering the state of them both.</p><p> </p><p>Brenda’s feral grunts drown out her own more restrained moans; she’d like to let her excitement run free but the walls here aren’t thick and she has neighbours – none of whom need to know what she gets up to after lights out; but no matter how she tries to suppress them, the frantic pants bouncing back off the screen into her face are edged with a teakettle shrillness. Hips lifting from her bed, Joan's thighs tremble as she works her clit, eyes sliding up and down Brenda’s image as if it’s the last thing she’s ever going to see. The sight of her riding that vibe pushes her into overdrive and her clit seems to grow even harder. Desperately sensitive, it turns every movement of her fingertips into sensory lightshow and, as Brenda’s cries grow wilder, she’s filled with a feeling of vast, empty space as she’s pulled out of herself before everything rushes back in on itself and she’s plastered across the mattress, unable to breathe, phone clasped to her aching chest.</p><p>It doesn’t matter because despite her demand to see Joan's face, Brenda hasn’t been able to stop her eyes from closing as her body repeatedly arches and her head falls back. She doesn’t know who she is as the vibe churns away, only that she exists in this single, blinding moment and she thrusts against the relentless, penetrating throb, barely touching her clit as she stiffens and a death rattle chokes from her stricken throat. Suddenly free of its iron grip, she sags forward, pushing out the vibe as her cunt contracts again and again, hair swinging around her sweaty face as she grips the edge of the mattress, shaking uncontrollably. </p><p> </p><p>By stages, Brenda finds herself collapsing as orgasmic echoes judder through her and, arse high on the pillows, head half hanging over the side of the bed, she grabs at the phone, smiling gently at the incoherent light in Joan's dark and dreamy eyes as her long face smooshes into the thin prison pillow. This isn’t a time for words, this is a time for silent contemplation and adoration – but it’s not a time to be falling out of bed and Brenda rights herself, skimming the coverlet over her naked hips as she curls an arm beneath her head. Joan looks so much younger when it’s just the two of them like this, with all the tension gone from the lines around her mouth and her eyes, her cares forgotten as they bask in the haze of togetherness. She still marvels how all of this has happened, if anyone had asked her a year ago if she could see herself fucking her jailbird ex-Governor boss then she’d have laughed in their face, but here she is, doing exactly that, and with no intention of changing the situation either – well, that is until Joan gets out and they can do this properly like normal people.</p><p>Joan shivers and, burrowing beneath her quilt, she snuggles up on her side,  gazing sleepily at her woman. She’s never done this before – fallen asleep with a woman, that is. In fact, Brenda’s the only woman she’s ever really shared a bed with, not even Jianna can lay claim to that first. One day she’ll get to do it for real and her pulse quickens at the thought. “You know,” she murmurs, “You haven’t actually congratulated me…”</p><p>“Thought I just did.”</p><p>“You said a lot of things, most of them filthy,” she pauses and flashes a wicked smile at the memory. “But no, congratulations wasn’t one of them.”</p><p>Brenda suppresses a grin and instead pulls a consoling face although they both know she doesn’t mean it in the slightest. “Well then, please may I congratulate you on your success and wish you the finest felicitations for the future?”  </p><p>This amuses Joan. “Felicitations??”</p><p>“Don’t you know what it means?” Brenda knows that Joan won’t be able to resist biting, and a lazy grin breaks across her face.</p><p>“Oh, <em>I</em> do,” she replies, “I’m just surprised you do too.” Her eyes crinkle at Brenda’s look of fake outrage.</p><p>“You cheeky bitch! I’ll have you know that when the mood takes me, I’m an exceptionally cunning linguist!”</p>
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